Would You Mind?
by crypticnotions
Summary: A band AU. Shaw threatens to use a recording Joss and John accidentally created. Rating will go to M in later chapters. First chapter is highly suggestive.
1. Chapter 1

This one is for **Carolinegirl919**. Her birthday is today. A long time back we discussed a prompt. I wish I'd had a chance to spend a little bit more time on it, CG, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. It's not that smutty, but I hope you like the small little nuggets in there. :) **#VirgoSeason #VirgoBabies**.

This is an AU and it's a little ooc, which is what I get for writing it as late as I did. Blah.

The fic is named after the Janet Jackson song of the same name so go check it out after you read. Um, make sure you're grown when you do.

The prompt: _Imagine your OTP are in a band and they're recording an album. One night, after everyone else has gone home, Person A persuades Person B to have a little naughty fun with them in one of the recording booths. Unfortunately, someone left the mic on, and when their bandmates come in the next morning, they find that everything's been recorded. Bonus points if one of the other band members wants to use it as a hidden track on the album._

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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><p>Joss Carter knows something has gone wrong the second she sees Sameen Shaw's face. She hasn't seen her band mate look so delightful since they stopped by an all you can eat steak buffet last year on tour.<p>

"What?" Joss questions.

"You horn dog!" she snickers.

"What do you mean?" Carter tenses. Sameen is not one to make claims without proof. The woman doesn't operate that way. A tendril of fear snakes its way up Carter's legs and through her now rigid spine.

A flip of a button at the control booth and Carter hears it.

"John," Joss' voice called from the recording from last night. It almost doesn't sound like her, but the hitch, the tremble of her natural tone rings through the breathless utterance.

"Please, don't stop."

"Never," John joined in. His voice is a raspy growl that simmers under her cries.

"Shaw," Carter starts.

Sam shakes her head, but pauses the button. "Wait until the rest of the gang gets here."

"No!" Joss says. She doesn't want Finch, Fusco, Morgan or Groves to hear this. It had been a mistake. Well, not exactly a mistake. The tension between Joss and John had been heightening with every one of their waking moments together, but she knows that John must have forgotten to shut off the recording from their session last night.

She doesn't know where their relationship falls. John's not the type to one night stand it. She couldn't even claim his brief relationship with Zoe qualified since the two had remained friends and, until a month ago, casually had a fling.

Joss wasn't the one night stand kind of person either. Still, she doesn't know where they should go from here.

"You can't play that, Sam. It was an accident."

Sam smirks at her and walked from behind the controls. "Let's be clear, Carter; when I slept with Root that was an accident. You and John have been doing the tension tango for ages now. Only a matter of time. I'm just mad you didn't wait until the tour. Pretty sure I lost fifty to Fusco and Zoe."

"What?" Joss' forehead wrinkles in confusion.

Shaw rolls her eyes. "You two are the only ones oblivious to the inevitable."

Joss frowns. Were they really that obvious?

"Transparent as clear water, J." She waves a hand. "But back to the track. We need it. It would sound so good as the opening to _Crystal Waters_. It would lend it a Donna Summer, Janet Jackson-esque vibe."

"No," Joss repeats again. She folds her arms and her leather jacket pulls taut with the action.

The studio door behind them opens.

"No, what?"

Joss tries not to tense again. It becomes hard to do when John moves to stand close to her, his heat radiating against her back. His body drifts into her space, controls a piece of it even though she remains in charge.

Sam smiles her Grinch smile.

"You might be a great bassist, Reese, but you're a lousy technician. Should have shut down the equipment before seducing Carter.

John steps forward beside Joss and looks at her for confirmation.

She closes her eyes briefly, nods, and opens them.

Crimson red races up his ears and the apples of his cheeks. His hands clench involuntarily at the news.

Shaw presses the button.

Damn, the studio quality microphone. He can hear their slick flesh sliding together; can hear the small gasps of pleasure from Joss. He can hear himself beg her not to come just yet.

"Enough, Shaw." Reese's voice is surprisingly demanding.

She shrugs and shuts off the sound. She glances at her watch. "Gonna grab some coffee before everyone else arrives. I bet you two lovers have a lot to discuss before I introduce this as our new album opening."

She sidesteps the duo and is out the door before either can protest.

Reese runs a hand across his face. "I'm sorry, Joss." He grimaces as the recording plays in his head.

"I could have turned it off too." She doesn't want him to take all the blame. They're in this together.

"Well, I did seduce you," he teases.

She smiles, but they both know it's true. John has been on his own crusade to win her over since they met at The Precinct Lounge after he beat up some drunken punks down by the subway. It was long before they formed their band The Machine with the rest of the group. He'd pursued her since she broke up with Paul Carter, lead singer of the notorious Servicemen band.

It started with him showing up at her job, escalated to him getting his buddy, Finch, to offer her a position with The Machine after Nathan and Dillinger left.

It's also true about last night. Yes, the sexual tension encompassed a portion of their relationship, but without a nudge Joss would have kept them as strictly friends. It didn't take much though. He'd titled her chin up, looked her in the eyes and pressed a sweet kiss to her lips.

It wasn't a large leap to them stripping off their clothes, hands grasping zippers and limbs. He was hard before he saw her naked and, from the smooth entry he had, she was ready for him quickly too.

He knew if he lifts up his shirt he would reveal nail marks and a vivid bite mark perched on his shoulder where she'd come particularly hard.

He wonders how sore her scalp is from when he took from behind, his left hand clutching her hip, right hand buried deep into her thick tresses, yanking her head up and back as she bended over the oak stool in the booth.

"You did," she says. Her voice is pure silk and there's no surprise that he dreams about it when he hears her singing lead vocals. It's no surprise that her hoarse shouts last night heightened his enjoyment.

They stare at each other a few more moments before she speaks. "You know we can't let Shaw play that, right?"

"She won't. She's just trying to rile us up." He doesn't sound convincing at all.

Joss raises a brow. "It's Sam. We need to destroy that audio or we really will hear it as the opening to the album."

They walk to the panels and John leans down before he presses buttons to eliminate the audio. "Wouldn't have minded a copy," he murmurs.

"Who needs a copy when we can just recreate it?" Playfulness drenches her tone.

He looks at her sharply. He allows himself a quick intake of breath. He knew Joss was reluctant to start a relationship. She had been about self-healing after her last, tragic breakup. Sex wasn't the sole part of a relationship, and he hoped he wouldn't be stuck with just the memories of the great night they shared, but he would respect any boundaries she set. She already had his heart and she would be able to dictate what course they sailed on their unsteady waters.

"Might want you to feed me first, but there could be a repeat. Maybe somewhere private next time?"

He smirks, lifts a warm hand to her cheek, and nods. "Definitely, Joss." The move is tender despite the fact that he envisions just how tightly she gripped him when he came, how her sweaty brow rested against his cheek, how she flicked her tongue across his ear and set his body racing and hungry for more.

Her eyes narrow at the look in his. "Not here again," she whispers. She has her own thoughts and she feels the telltale signs of her own body responding to him. Flashes of his tongue swiping across her sensitive clit as she grasped his gray hair in a firm grip, the contrast of his mouth smooching lightly on hers despite the fact that he thrust deeply into her, her scalp tingling as he pulled and pushed his way into her third orgasm.

She captures his wrist, kisses his hand, and removes it.

"All done?" she asks as she steps away from him.

"All done," he confirms.

They smile at each other again.

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><p>Shaw saunters down the hall hiding a smirk behind a steaming cup of coffee. A tape recorder remains tucked into the back pocket of her jeans.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

In the before…

Joss closed her eyes as she grasped the microphone, swayed and held the last note. The crowd whooped as the dulcet tone lingered over The Precinct Lounge.

When she opened her eyes the crowd clapped and whistled. She gazed past the scorching lights illuminating her on stage and laughed. "Thank you. Thank you, and have a great night."

She grabbed the water bottle and towel off the stool and turned to help her band dismantle their equipment. This was her life right now. Wiping down tables and bartending during the day and moonlighting as the lead singer for The Interrogators, a jazz-fusion band, at night. She wasn't exactly broke given her savings from her previous job, but she would do anything to be able to put her baby, Taylor, through college. She wondered if she should make use of the law degree she had. People often looked at her strangely when they found she passed the bar and still decided to work at a dump like The Precinct Lounge. But she'd grown restless of the law life and decided to tap into her loves, which led her to singing lead for a band.

"Great job out there, partner," Lionel said. He lifted a beer to his lips and took a drag.

She smiled as she hefted a drum off the stage. "Thanks, Fusco." Fusco was a new friend who had been kind enough to help promote her shows.

Once their group was unplugged and packed she stood in the corner as she watched Elias and Scarface hand money to the keyboardist. She tried not to get too involved with these negotiations. Elias was crooked and Scarface tended to not be able to keep his eyes or hands to himself when she was around. Even as she scowled at him, he was leering at her from his position standing beside his boss.

She sat in a booth away from the stage and watched people file out of the packed venue. The Precinct Lounge was small. It was modeled after a police precinct and was bathed in browns and beiges and adorned with tattered wooden tables and metal chairs. "Mug shots" plastered on the walls were of customers who'd downed the traditional burger wonder cocktail that contained over two pounds of meat and enough odd condiments that just thinking about it put Joss' stomach on edge. She never got used to the smell of stale sweat that followed the aftermath of a show either.

"Hey, Doll face," Scarface said, the scar shifting with his upturned mouth and his eyes scanning her body as he walked near to her.

"Tony," she replied, her voice terse without a drop of cordiality. She held her breath until he was out of the building.

After collecting her money she caught up with Fusco then squared things away with her boss before she headed outside. She never did like going outside after dark. The hairs on her neck stood up as she trudged across the parking lot separating her from her car. As the feeling of unease intensified, she reached under her leather jacket and fiddled with the strap on her holster. She might be retired, but she was glad of her time as a New York City Police Officer. Just as she was about to grab her gun from its hiding place, she saw him.

She cursed. It was the man in the suit. The man she helped when she first started working at The Precinct Lounge. The man she couldn't seem to get rid of. The man she was scared that she was starting to feel like she didn't want to get rid of.

"John, you scared the shit out of me." She lifted her hand from her waist and sauntered over to him. Her booted feet crunched over scattered gravel and remnants of broken glass.

"I didn't mean to scare you, Carter."

She didn't want to think about his beautiful eyes or the way they drifted downward when he looked her. Tony was creepy, but John, the mysterious guy now following her around, was not? She almost sighed. She really needed to get her shit together.

"I know. What are you doing here?"

"I thought the show was open to the public?"

"It is, but I thought you'd be out doing something else; something more important."

He shifted against the fence parallel to her car. "Something more important than watching you?" He smirked, but his eyes had a seriousness that she didn't want to read into.

An uncomfortable silence lingered in the air between them. She tried to ignore the heat crawling up her legs, across her chest and onto her cheeks.

"Yeah," she answered. Her voice sounded weak and she wanted to internally punch something.

"Don't sell yourself short, Joss." He leaned against the fence to gain momentum to propel forward. She tried not to look at the sharp lines of his suit. She knew The Machine band's marketing was all about sharply outfitted men. It was no wonder their fan base had been mostly women and gay men until Reese started doing a popular dance maneuver called "kneecapping". It was the strangest thing she'd ever seen and yet she realized why the punks and metalheads downtown loved it. It was pure energy and restrained rage.

He opened her door and waited for her to settle inside. "You going to be okay?"

"I'll be just fine." She reached for the door, but before she could grab the handle, he pulled out a flyer.

"We're looking for a new lead singer. Nathan bailed on us. Dillinger looks to be following in his footsteps. We hired a new member named Shaw. I think you'd like her."

She looked up at him leaning into her car, into her personal space and felt herself flush. "I'm happy with The Interrogators."

She noticed his smile falter and the twinkle in his eyes temporarily decrease.

"If you change your mind." He thrust the sheet into her hand.

The whiff of his musky cologne assailed her senses and she felt a tremble course through her. She really didn't know this man. Sure, she'd showed up to one of his concerts and he'd taken to tracking half of all her steps, but she was still in her "on again off again" relationship with Paul and she didn't need this kind of temptation right now.

"Uh, yeah, thanks, I'll keep this is mind." She didn't care that her voice was hoarse. She needed to get out of there at that moment. She slammed the door shut and rolled down her window. "Bye, John."

"Sweet dreams, Joss," his silky whisper floated to her.

That dirty bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing. She gripped the steering wheel and drove out of the lot. She was in trouble. She was in a whole lot of fucking trouble.


	3. Chapter 3

"So she said no, huh?"

John looked up from lifting their equipment from the van. Their van looked small on the outside, but it was roomy and fitted with state of the art amenities. The outside of the vehicle was immaculate with a pristine coat of gray paint and their name in bold, black lettering on the sides.

"What are you talking about?"

Shaw watched him depositing items on the ground before she took a bite of the steak she had suspended on a knife. She replied with her mouth full. "This chick you've been following around."

John paused. He took at the lean of her body and the determined glint in her eyes. He liked Shaw okay, but she worked to get under his skin like an annoying little sister.

"Saw you following around some woman the other day. Pretty. Definitely got a nice ass and cute tits. I can see what you like in her."

"That's not what I like about Joss," he blurted out. His ears turned red with the intense anger rush that followed her words.

Shaw's mouth morphed into a devious grin. She bit off another chunk of meat and shifted her stance. "Joss. Her name is Joss?" She finished her steak, grease and sauce leaking around the edges of her mouth before she lifted her black tank to swipe it from her lips. She rubbed the knife against her dark jeans then allowed it to collapse before she shoved it back into her rear pocket.

He nearly groaned out loud. He'd dived head first into that trap.

"Does Harold know?"

"Yes," he said. Harold most definitely knew and he disapproved once he found out Joss sang for The Interrogators, a rival band that was blazing a trail through the underground scene and leaving many groups in their wake during battle of the bands competitions. Word was The Interrogators were on the edge of a record deal. Between that and their dealings with one Carl Elias, Finch didn't think John's new friend worthy of the effort.

"Well, what's the deal? She turn you down for sex or something?"

He scowled at her and dropped the box containing her extra set of strings and picks down hard. Her grin didn't falter.

"We're not involved like that."

"Gotcha. So it's just you walking around doing this smitten puppy dog thing while she tries not to succumb?"

"There's nothing to succumb to," he gritted out.

She snatched the next box from his hand, knowing it was the most fragile of her equipment. The custom made guitar nestled into its case was not so easy to come by.

"Good to know. Seems like you should tell Zoe."

He slammed the backdoor shut and glanced at her again. "What does Zoe have to do with this? She's not the jealous type."

She raised an eyebrow. "True. You just told me she had nothing to be jealous of so why not tell her. Stringing one woman along while you play hide and go seek and peek-a-boo with another isn't a good look, Reese." She scanned him from head to toe. "At least not for you."

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><p>John popped the top of a cold beer and plopped down on his leather couch. His conversation with Shaw chafed at his bones. He knew she was teasing him, but he didn't like his hopefully budding relationship with Carter to be reduced to T&amp;A and this false idea that he only wanted to sleep with her.<p>

Carter really saved him. He thanked Finch every day for helping bring him from the brink of disaster, but it was Carter's intervention that kept him from ending up drunk and suicidal in some jail cell until he could off himself.

When he'd shown up to The Precinct Lounge he'd been at his lowest. He hadn't shaved in weeks and it took all he had not to bark at the man rushing behind the bar. He was three shots of tequila, a couple tumblers of scotch, two beers and two shots of vodka in when the trouble started. He'd chosen the lounge precisely because it didn't look like they actually cared about how much their clients drank as long as they paid the tab and slinked away before closing time. All would have been fine if a group of punks lurking near the edge of the bar hadn't decided that picking a fight with a disheveled guy who'd drunk too much was the perfect Friday night entertainment.

He'd easily dismantled their plans and the cops were staring at him and ready to cart him off and then she arrived.

She was beautiful, her dark hair loose and flowing. A few words with some guys from her previous precinct and he was left alone looking into her face. She had the kindest eyes and when she asked him if he needed help, she placed a hand briefly on his arm.

No one had been kind to him in a long time and he couldn't help but feel an attraction of both body and soul to her. It wasn't until months later that he realized that his feelings weren't just infatuation, but that he genuinely cared about the stranger who'd helped him in his time of need.

Finch had swooped in shortly after Joss had helped him and given him a job as a bassist for his band. The man was meticulous, proper and odd, but they'd forged a tight bond and Reese wouldn't change his friendship with Harold for a second, but that couldn't quench the curiosity he felt about Joss. Even learning that she was in a rival band and dating the lead singer from Servicemen, Paul Carter, he was undeterred. They could be friends.

And he thought they were starting on that path. She'd come to one of his shows the previous month and he's been to nearly all of hers, choosing to stand in the back to make sure no one was creeping on her. He had his share of groupies and she had her share of interested bachelors. He watched as men came up to her and pressed themselves close to her body. Their hands lingered too long on inappropriate places and their eyes lit up too much as they took in her body in his opinion. Still, he wasn't a caveman and she wasn't a damsel in distress. That meant he wasn't impacted, right? He wasn't pining away for a secret romance?

A funny feeling settled into his gut and he cursed, taking time to toss down some of his beer. Shaw wasn't right and Zoe had nothing to be worried about. Zoe and he were friends who managed to scratch each other's itches when needed. They had some sophisticated fun too every once in awhile. John would understand when Zoe's high-powered man waltzed through the door and challenged her in a way John couldn't.

But as he gulped down the rest of his beer, he couldn't rid himself of that nagging _something_ that clearly attached itself to all of his ties to Carter.

His phone rang.

John fumbled to retrieve it. He looked at the glowing screen. The call was from Joss. She never called him. His mood lifted with the thought of hearing her voice. He paused before tapping the talk button. A rumble flowed over his body and he stopped.

Shaw wasn't right, was she?

Shaw was without a filter and tried to rile him up. That was all. Still, as his finger touched the screen and he felt flooded with giddiness he knew whatever this was between Joss and him was more than he was ready to admit to himself.


End file.
